


Rain

by filthy_eretik



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Feels, Romance, this is my first time uploading something idk what to put help, vergil's not good with his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthy_eretik/pseuds/filthy_eretik
Summary: Vergil should know better than to follow a witch into the rain.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 15





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this is my first time feeling brave enough to put any of my writing on the internet. I have a lot of old fics that I could upload on here. This one is probably my favorite simply because I enjoy exploring Vergil's thoughts and feelings. He's a really interesting character to me.
> 
> Ophelia is my main oc and I really hope you guys like her. The majority of my dmc fics will most likely involve her. If you have an oc as well let's talk because I love learning about other people's characters. Ocs are amazing and anyone who says otherwise can fight me.

A rushing guttural fear crawled through Vergil’s veins. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his chest heaved under the weight of something unseen. His grip on his pillow was so tight that he dug holes into it. The feeling of the polyester filling in his fingers was the only thing keeping him grounded. Once his eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, he realized where he was.

He was in Devil May Cry and specifically in his own room that his brother had so begrudgingly gave to him. He wasn’t in that thing. A relief washed over him but his heart was still pounding. The memories that came flooding up gnawed at him and caused his whole body to ache in grief. He refused to acknowledge the need to scream and stood himself up out of bed. He needed to do something, perhaps go for a late night walk. Anything to get out of this building where he felt cooped up.

Though, his interest in a late night walk was soon washed away by the crashing of thunder outside. Perhaps the rain was the reason for such terrible memories. He would blame anything besides for his own unmanageable feelings for the time being. Even still, he made his way downstairs to the lobby. The place was dark and quiet like he expected it to be, until he noticed a small body sneaking its way out the front door. The door audibly shut and he already had an idea of who it could be.

“The rain calls to me.”

Vergil could still hear her sing-song voice whispering that to him before rushing out into a thunderstorm. The witch held her arms out as if embracing the rain itself as it poured down upon her. She quite literally danced in the rain that night, almost managing to drag Vergil out into it as well.

The smile that had crept up on his lips quickly faded. The memories were bittersweet. If he hadn’t ran from her like a scared child, perhaps he could have had her the way he truly wanted.

With a small sigh, and whispered curse to his own intelligence, Vergil followed Ophelia outside. He stayed underneath the overhang to keep himself from getting wet, finding her standing out in the rain with her arms spread wide. A pure, genuine smile crossed her face and she stared up at the sky, not even caring as the drops hit her right in the eyes. She was wearing hardly anything, a tank top and shorts, which clung to her skin tightly. Her hair was already soaked, sticking to her skin in a flaming trail of red.

When Ophelia heard the door open she looked back, her smile curling into a smirk when she realized who was there, “Care for a dance?”

The teasing words were an obvious callback and Vergil huffed out a small breath, “I came out here for some fresh air, not to dance.”

“You are missing out,” she called to him while holding her palms up to the sky, “If you would open your heart, you could feel the way it sings to you. Ah!” she paused dramatically as a breeze passed her by, “The wind wishes for you to join me, Vergil!”

“I thought yesterday the wind told you I was beyond help,” Vergil scoffed at her nonsense and leaned his back against the front door, “I am still inclined to believe the voices you hear are nothing more than your own mad musings.”

“The wind still believes that,” she spat out bitterly and made her way towards him, “Mad musings or not, I think it would be fun. Come now, you’re too old for the tough guy act.”

The mention of his age had a maddening headache forming. Did she have to speak of his age and rub in the fact that he had lost so many years? He could have been doing something, anything, with his life instead of being that demon’s puppet. He was too old for this. He was too old to be aching for her like he was and watching her from afar. He should have been with her for years already, should have built a life together, should have…

Vergil stopped his thoughts. She was standing near the edge of the overhang with her bare toes digging into the little amount of dirt that was outside the shop. He knew why she was out here. It was killing her to be so far away from nature and stuck in the middle of a city. All this woman wanted was to be left alone with the elements and her spellbooks. But she stayed, all for the son she never thought she would be able to have. She was willing to sacrifice years of her life to torture herself amongst humans just so she could be near him.

And yet, Vergil couldn’t even handle staying with her for a year.

“Vergil,” he heard her voice and looked up at her, finding her tying her soaking wet hair up into a loose bun, “I can still read you like a book. Something is bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” he spoke as if he had to convince himself and sighed, “Continue to dance in the rain or speak to it or whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll head inside in a moment.”

“Are you still mad at me for almost ripping your arm off?” Ophelia’s question was an obvious taunt and a groan bellowed from Vergil’s throat. “Not that you didn’t deserve it but if I can move on from you ripping my son’s arm off then I think you’ll survive.”

“That’s not it.” Vergil insisted and crossed his arms across his chest. “Just get back to dancing. I do not wish to speak of it.”

Ophelia paused and a frown crossed her lips. Vergil fooled himself into thinking she would listen as she turned away from him, feeling a bated breath being allowed to blow out his nostrils. Maybe in the past twenty years she had finally learned how to listen to people.

He couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

With a flick of the wrist, Vergil was shoved forward by a gust of unnatural wind coming from behind him. He was practically thrown face first into the sidewalk and his body was suddenly soaked in freezing cold water. The moment he landed on the ground, the rain seemingly began to pour down even harder and thunder crashed in the night sky. A powerful irritation hit him when he felt Ophelia’s presence next to his body.

“See, what did I say? The wind wants you out here!”

“Ophelia!” Vergil stood himself up with a few scrapes on his skin that were already beginning to close up. His soaked hair was now falling into his face and he brushed it back in annoyance.

Ophelia snorted out a laugh and her nose wrinkled up in her smile, “The wind has a cruel sense of humor.”

The witch barely had a chance to run before she was being grabbed and thrown over Vergil’s shoulder. She was still laughing loudly and random bursts of snorts came from her. He simply hooked an arm around her legs and rolled his eyes as he headed towards the door.

“I’m taking you in and cleaning you up. You look and smell like a wet dog,” the cold tone of Vergil’s voice was harsh as he forced his face to stay frozen in a frown.

“Is that so?” a few more devious giggles came from her before Vergil suddenly jumped and let go of her, accidentally dropping her on the ground.

Ophelia smacking him on the ass caused something in his brain to catch fire and he couldn’t even keep hold of her. Even when she had been unceremoniously dropped to the ground, fits of laughter continued to escape her lips. Tears were even falling from her eyes but they were hardly noticeable through the drops of rain that were still spilling down her face.

“After all these years spanking you...still has the same...effect,” she could hardly speak through her incessant laughter and brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face.

A groan escaped Vergil’s lips and he pressed a hand to his forehead. He expected his headache to be growing, but instead he found it to be disappearing. As much as he hated it, as much as he wanted to scream, he missed her. He missed the way she would laugh, missed the way she would so daringly touch him and hold him; hell, she would find new ways to push and prod him just to get a rise. It was always playful, though. It was all in some vain attempt to make him smile.

Even still, Vergil was a tough nut to crack.

“Stand up, Ophelia.” Vergil spoke with a straight face and stared down at her. “What would your son think if he saw you out here like this?”

“Well, I would hope Nero wouldn’t be wandering about in the darkened rain,” her laughter was finally beginning to calm and she stood to wipe the mud off her butt, “But I really don’t think I need to be the one worrying about his opinion, considering his own father hasn’t even gone for a visit.”

With a roll of the eyes and a frustrated huff, Vergil looked away from her with a pout, “It isn’t easy to speak to him.”

“Nero says the same about you,” she mused and smirked towards him, “You two are way more alike than you care to admit.”

Vergil looked back at her and almost immediately pressed his fingers into his temples. Her clothes were clinging to her body tightly, so tightly that it was almost as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. The rain running down her skin wasn’t helping anything in the slightest. She really did look like a siren out in this weather. The true man-eater that old villages so feared her to be. And her devious eyes were directed right at him, ones that spoke of playful gestures and old hedonistic things that she used to do to him.

Ophelia’s eyes seemed to be wandering him as well and she pointed a finger at his now drenched sweatpants, “You know, your clothes don’t hide anything either…”

Her pointed finger was grabbed in an instant, forcing her eyes away from the dirty place she was so referring to, “Please stop talking.”

“I’m just saying. I can see the outline of it and everything. Did you somehow get bigger through the years--”

“Ophelia!” Vergil’s cheeks were stained red as he squeezed her hand. He interrupted her but wasn’t sure what even to say. This all felt too familiar, as if they had gone back in time to that damned cabin hidden in the outskirts of Fortuna. Her playful flirting and incessant nonsense was always driving him mad, but it helped to open him up to her. The walls he put up were so easily broken down when she managed to pull his head out of his ass.

God, he, he really…

No, he couldn’t even admit it to himself. Even after he ran from her in fear of his own feelings, he still couldn’t say it, couldn’t even bring the thought up in his own brain. An aching need to run from her again crept up in his heart, but was blocked by her free hand pressing up against his chest.

“Something is still bothering you,” she spoke softly as she stared at his chest, “Remember what I told you about holding things in? Eventually, whatever it is will find a way to make you scream.”

Vergil could see her waking from her nightmares as clear as day. A panic rushed over her almost immediately and she could hardly keep her sobs in check. A recognizable burst of air always crashed over her as she began hyperventilating. She would dig her nails into his skin and kick and scream until she finally managed to calm down. He would take the punishment, take the pain in order to help her breathe. Would she do the same for him? Would she allow him to crumble entirely in her arms in order to wash away the painful memories?

The thought of being so vulnerable to her scared him. The mere thought of rejection, of her yelling at him to get over it or telling him he got what he deserved, had him keeping his lips tightly shut. Even if those things felt so out of character for her, the possibility was enough to have him closing himself off from those thoughts entirely.

His silence reigned over them and she breathed out a soft sigh. The rain had seemingly calmed at this point and was now a light drizzle, “My door is open if you need me. Not only for sex, but if you are ever in need of someone to hold or someone to speak to. Though, knowing our conversations, I will be the one doing the most talking. I do not mind that either.”

Ophelia’s words seemed as though they were meant to strike directly at his heart. He brushed back a few more strands of hair that had fallen as his gaze ran from her eyes. His hand gripped at her tiny one but she accepted the forceful nature of his touches. “You promise not to breathe a word of this to Dante?”

A smile crept onto her lips and she spoke softly, “I promise. I don’t need more reasons for the two of you to be fighting in the middle of the day.”

Vergil’s eyes flicked up at her again, seeing the beaming smile on her face. Even though it was raining and they were standing in the middle of the dark, he could have sworn a light was radiating from her. The black demonic tears running down her cheeks were such a strange comfort to him. She was cursed for life and yet still found a way to smile. She was stronger than he could ever imagine being. As much as she suffered, as much as she lived through, she was still so full of life.

“I...I had a nightmare,” he spoke bitterly and stared down at their hands in shame.

“A pretty bad one, I imagine,” she paused as her hand moved up towards his shoulder, “Was it similar to the nightmares I have at times?”

“Not entirely,” he was unable to help himself and leaned into her touch when her hand came creeping towards his cheek, “I did not panic, did not hurt myself, but it unnerved me.”

“Well just because you don’t have the same reaction as I do doesn’t mean it isn’t just as painful,” she rubbed her thumb against his cheek and felt the grip on her hand tighten, “Was it about Nelo Angelo?”

Just the utterance of the name had him gritting his teeth. The disturbing memories of being taken over and Nelo Angelo’s creation were almost overwhelming. He buried the sobs he so desperately wanted to let out and let them out by using his other hand to grip at her tiny wrist forcefully. She didn’t stop him and allowed him to do as he pleased.

She took the response as a yes and suddenly pressed her face into his chest, causing his eyes to widen.

“I know you do not like looking at me when you speak like this,” she breathed out against his chest, her wet hair sticking to his skin, “So I will hide if you wish me to.”

It was also an easy way to free her hands so she could wrap them around his waist. The warmth from the hug was shocking at first, something that had his mind reeling. It only reminded him of their time in Fortuna together. The first time she held his hand to pull him onto the dancefloor, the first time he saw her fight and the way she so gracefully danced amongst their enemies, and the first time he got to hold her in his arms and kiss her. The way she smelled like lilac, the tingles that swam through his nerves, and the rush of safety that he had craved for so long. She gave him so much and all he did was take and take.

Even still, she was willing to listen to his whimpers and whines. After everything he had put her through, even with all her incessant teasing, she was still willing to close her eyes and listen to him. He almost wanted to go back to when she was trying to tear his arm off. That almost seemed simpler. Fighting back against her in a duel was effortless when compared to this.

Vergil’s hands came wrapping around her waist and he breathed out a shaky breath. The wind sent a chill down his spine but the warmth of her palms on his back helped to even things out. It felt like a fever. Cold and hot mingled together in a rush of emotions that had been buried deep for so long.

He felt her nose pressed against his chest and her heavy breath hitting his bare skin. His heart was beginning to pound and a fear hit him. He wondered if this was how his father felt with his mother. Was this the thing that made giving up his power all worth it? He always questioned why his father would dare do something as heinous as that, but the way Ophelia held him gave him some sense of understanding.

Ophelia made him feel safe and loved. He gripped at her sides and buried his face into her wet hair. She really did smell like a wet dog, but he wasn’t sure if he cared. Even that was a comfort. A tear threatened to leave his eyes and he quickly held it back with a few blinks. The rain was doing the crying for him now. He didn’t need to fully show her how much pain he was in.

“I…” he finally attempted to speak but even still, he couldn’t find his words. He knew he felt awful but couldn’t explain it outloud.

“You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to,” he was met with an understanding voice as she stayed pressed against him, “You can just close your eyes and listen to the pitter-patter of the rain if that will so help. Or scream in my ear. Or even take me upstairs and pound me into the mattress if you so deem it fit. I understand what you’re feeling, even if you can’t entirely express it. We all have our own ways of dealing with such things. I have a panic attack and scream and cry and take things out on myself, but you are entirely different. All that matters is that you get these awful things out of your system.”

A comfortable silence fell upon them. It was always quiet because of him, because he refused to give any reply to what she would say to him. She never got angry with him for not speaking. He almost wanted her to. He wanted her to scream at him and kick him into the ground. That was easier to handle, easier to process. This warmth and small comforts was terrifying. It was more than he could take, more than he could begin to understand. Why did she care for him so!? After everything he had done, even his brother was willing to take him back with open arms! A whole lifetime of mistakes and pain was met with undeserved relationships that he had thought lost to him so long ago.

Vergil collapsed, pulling her to the ground right along with him. Ophelia didn’t say a word as he gripped onto her tightly and desperately. He was fighting with himself, fighting the urge to run back to his room and lock himself away from her. But then the creeping emptiness he felt when he had abandoned her came back to him. He remembered hiding from her behind a tree, hearing the way she cried out for him when she couldn’t find him. He had convinced himself that was what he wanted, that he was happy that he had torn her down so easily, but no. It killed him inside. It killed him to know that a woman who had given so much to him was sobbing over his leaving.

His stoic expression cracked as one single tear fell down his cheek. It was buried away in the rain but he felt it. A sign of his humanity was rushing down his skin out in the open for all to see. The wind smacked his face and howled in his ear. Was that the singing she so referred to? He closed his eyes, listening to the rainfall like she said.

He had nestled his face into her neck and her hands came up to card her fingers through his hair. It was such a gentle gesture that it was almost overwhelming. This woman was going to kill him. She was going to kill him so softly with a simple embrace alone. He wouldn’t mind leaving this world because of her. He would love it to be her finally delivering the killing blow to his heart. Either her or his brother, they both deserved to take him away from the world of the living because of his own actions.

Father? Was the feeling of love what made it all so worth it?

Vergil wished he had his own father to go to for guidance. Even though he had a son of his own, he was entirely lost. How was he supposed to lead a new generation when he could hardly understand his own mind? He had left his own child to wander the world alone, much like he was left isolated to suffer when he was so young. All he did was cause pain. It would be better if he had never returned at all. Maybe he shouldn’t have even sought out the Yamato. Maybe he should have just allowed himself to wither away entirely.

But then Ophelia’s lips dusted across his temples. It wasn’t a kiss but a mere touch that sent such calming tingles down his spine. Her fingertips traced down his neck and to his shoulder, touching his bare skin as the rain finally came to a stop. She looked up into the now empty air and let out a heavy breath.

“You smell like a wet dog,” she mused softly and a gentle giggle crept from her lips.

“I wonder whose fault that is,” Vergil found it so much easier to speak to her casually and pulled his face away from her neck. He noticed that she was still staring up at the sky, closing her eyes when a breeze came by.

Ophelia’s lips parted and she shivered while waiting for the wind to seemingly speak up again. A soft smile came across her face and a look of peace was upon her. Finally, she brought her face back down to look at him. “The wind has some faith in you…”

His eyes rolled and shook his head, “I tire of you gossiping about me with the wind.”

“Hey, at least it’s saying something nice this time,” she said in absent defense and smiled up at him.

Ugh, he wasn’t used to seeing her genuine smile. It was always a smirk or teasing laugh. It was never something so sweet and pure. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to feel her lips upon his, but he didn’t dare to make the first move. He simply stood, pulling her up right along with him. They were both an absolute mess and their legs were covered in mud. Ophelia hardly even noticed the grime while he was entirely bothered by it. He would never be able to get the stains out of his sweatpants.

“We both need a shower,” he huffed out and attempted to brush away some of the mud. It ended up only getting his hands more dirty and she snickered at him.

“It is clear which of us actually knows their way around the rain and gunk,” she didn’t attempt to wipe away the dirt on her legs and in between her toes. She simply began to walk her way towards the front door, leaving a trail of water and mud behind her.

Vergil followed her quietly. His eyes stayed on the floor, watching the footsteps she created with the mud. As much as his brother hated cleaning, he was sure even Dante would notice the mess that was left. He would make her clean up the mess in the morning. They made their way upstairs, Vergil keeping a few steps behind her, as he followed her to the bathroom.

“I’ll let you clean up first,” Vergil spoke softly as she reached out for the doorknob, “I’ll grab some extra clothes you can sleep in.”

“Oh, please,” Ophelia scoffed and rolled her eyes, “You’re getting in the shower with me. Save some hot water. Besides, didn’t you say you were going to clean me up?”

The witch’s point was valid but it still had Vergil taking in a heavy breath. She was practically naked in front of him with the way her wet clothes clung to her skin but actually removing the articles was entirely different. Though, when he turned to her, there was no flirtatious glimmer in her eyes. Her small smile was warm and gentle, something he hadn’t expected.

A strange comfort filled his belly and he gave into her with a sigh, “Fine. Let me get us both some clothes.”

Ophelia allowed him to walk away from her. When Vergil came back with one of his blue t-shirts for her and a pair of shorts for himself, he found her in the bathroom. She was already undressed and leaning over the tub, attempting to adjust the water. He dropped the clothes onto the counter and watched her from the corner of his eye. Her skin was growing more pale overtime as she wasn’t sleeping in trees and spending all day in the sunlight. The freckles still dotted her skin but there weren't as many on her cheeks. Her hair had been pulled out of the hair tie and was pouring down her shoulders and towards her waist.

Once she was satisfied with the temperature, she pulled on the tap to start the shower. It took her a while to learn how to do it. She was so used to just jumping in a lake to bathe herself that the concept of running water and pipes evaded her. He was thankful that he didn’t have to keep showing her which way to turn what and what to pull on to get it right.

When she turned to find him removing his pants, a snicker escaped her lips. She didn’t say whatever perverted comment was rushing through her head and simply moved to climb into the shower.

“Oh, you better hurry. The water is perfect and who knows when that’ll change.” Even she knew how terrible Dante was at paying the bills.

Vergil followed behind her, leaving his messy clothes in a pile on the floor along with hers, and stepped into the shower right along with her. He found her tipping her head back so the water could rush through her hair. Her eyes stayed closed as she rubbed her hands over her face.

“The water feels so good,” she breathed out loosely.

“Better not hog it all,” he placed his hands on her shoulders and adjusted her so he could stand beside her underneath the water.

Ophelia grabbed the shampoo from the shower rack. She was unsure as to what ‘swagger’ was supposed to smell like but she didn’t voice her complaints. It was Dante’s home and he was paying for everything so there was no need to say anything. As Vergil held his face underneath the water and her fingers scrubbed the shampoo into her scalp, her eyes wandered over him. Scars covered his body head to toe. His skin used to be so clean. There were always a couple scars, but never like this.

The observation was pushed to the back of her mind and she pushed him playfully. “Move, I need to wash out my hair.”

“You can wait,” he spoke straight faced but his eyes widened when her hands were suddenly brushing his wet hair down to fall into his face.

“You look cute with your hair down,” she hummed softly and all the sudden he turned her to where she was right underneath the water.

“Wash your hair out,” he commanded her as he brushed his hair back in its original form.

Ophelia laughed and combed her fingers through her hair, “Big baby. Still so easy to tease and annoy.”

“You have a talent for it,” even if his tone was rough, a smile came onto his lips involuntarily.

She stared at him before a giddy little cry came from her. At his realization, his smile dropped in an instant, but she was undeterred. She approached him with a stomp of her foot and brought her fingers up to force his lips into a smile. He pulled away from her with an annoyed groan and he grabbed onto her hands.

“I only wished to keep that smile on your face,” she giggled softly, “Even though I am aware it was a lost cause.”

“Just...hush…” he spoke softly, feeling almost dazed from the way she so happily stared up at him. Perhaps it was because of the lack of sleep, but he wanted to fall into her. He wanted to capture the essence of her smile so maybe he could feel that warmth for the rest of his life. Even if he could never manage to fully express himself to her, he was fine with simply listening to her speak. She could be annoying at times, but he could listen to her for days.

The two finished up their shower in a rush after feeling the water beginning to grow colder and colder. Ophelia threw his shirt over her body and it was almost like she was wearing a dress with how long it was on her. Her hair was still wet but not nearly as dirty as it was when they came inside. Their muddy footsteps were still painted into the wood floor and she tiptoed over them to make sure she didn’t dirty herself again.

But she was straying towards the other side of the hall, where her room was. An ache rushed through Vergil’s heart. The thought of having such a wonderful night with her only to shut himself off in his room without her was torturous.

Vergil hesitated for a moment, almost allowing her to fully make her way to her room, before he finally got his voice out, “Stay with me tonight.”

Ophelia turned back to him with a small smirk, “I was wondering when you would ask.”

She easily waltzed back to him and started her way towards his room, “Come. I already know you’ll prefer your room over mine.”

Vergil knew what that meant and he began to follow her with a sigh, “It’s a mess, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm,” she confirmed his question and pranced her way to his room, throwing the door open in an instant.

The only thing messed up in Vergil’s room was his covers that had been thrown off when he awoke. Well, and the pillow he had dug his nails into. She must have noticed that first even in the dark as she climbed onto the bed and picked it up. She didn’t utter a comment about the state it was in and simply tossed it to the floor. Vergil was all too tired to care about the clutter she created.

Vergil shut the door behind him and sank into the bed next to her with a groan. His eyes hurt and his body was aching. He couldn’t stay up like he used to, it seemed. He was worn out and exhausted, his head very quickly hitting the untouched pillow. He rubbed his face in his hands and looked over at her to find her crawling closer to him. She settled down right next to him and rested her arms on his chest. Her face was so close and he couldn’t help but bring a hand up to run his fingers through her damp hair.

It was quiet between them, but it was different than how it was before. There wasn't sadness, but peace. A quiet content that could only be found between two people who had gone through hell and back together. She brought her face down to nuzzle her nose against his cheek and he heaved out a heavy breath.

“Vergil…” she whispered his name as if it were its own sweet nothing and trailed her lips across his cheek, “May I kiss you?”

As much as she prodded and teased him, she always asked permission for that. It warmed his heart and his hand came up to press against the small of her back. His chest felt heavy and he was lost in the way her legs pressed into his and her hot breath hit his bare skin.

Vergil didn’t even bother with speaking his answer. He simply placed his hand on the back of her head and forced her forward. The kiss was slow and deep. He wanted to savor her in every single way he could think of. He wanted to paint his memories with the way her lips felt against his, just in case she came to sudden realization that he didn’t deserve such sweet things. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve his brother, didn’t deserve anything...and yet they were all here. She was in his arms kissing him so slowly that it felt as though she was moving in slow motion.

Oh god, he missed her. He loved her. Dammit, he would at least say it to himself if he couldn’t speak the words out loud. He was lucky to even be breathing the same air as her, lucky to even be able to gaze upon her lovely appearance.

Ophelia pulled back and rested her cheek against his chest. She breathed out a gentle sigh and threw an arm around his waist. “I can tell you’re exhausted. Just know that if you have another nightmare, I’ll be right here.”

Vergil ran his palm across her back and held her close, feeling his eyes falling shut from their heaviness alone. “The same goes for you, but I think you already knew that.”

She scoffed against his skin and smiled softly. “Goodnight, Vergil.”

As he laid there with his eyes shut, the warmth of her body seemed to nullify the horrible thoughts that he had started the night with. He had managed to ruin the majority of his life, but the least he could do was enjoy her while he could. Perhaps he should take a page from her own book and enjoy each day after day.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up, “Goodnight, Ophelia.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes Ophelia talks to the wind. I gave Nero a crazy witch lady for a mom because I only want what's best for my boy.


End file.
